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                           The Love                                      
                                                                         
                       I remember my father                              
                       Lying there                                       
                       In that big hospital bed                          
                       Looking so frail                                  
                       So small                                          
                       So alone                                          
                       At fifty-eight                                    
                       His mind                                          
                       His body                                          
                       Stolen                                            
                       At fifty-eight                                    
                       Old                                               
                       Feeble                                            
                       Unknowing                                         
                       And dying                                         
                                                                         
                       I remember his eyes                               
                       The light gone                                    
                       Nothing in them                                   
                       Save the cold wet haze                            
                       Of death                                          
                       But even then                                     
                       At the end                                        
                       In his mind                                       
                       In his heart                                      
                       One thing survived -                              
                       Love                                              
                                                                         
                       He called                                         
                       My mother's name                                  
                       It was the last word                              
                       I ever heard him say                              
                       She held his hand                                 
                       She told him she was there                        
                       With him                                          
                       And I could feel                                  
                       The peace that came over him                      
                       All he knew                                       
                       Was all he needed to know                         
                       His Anna was with him                             
                       She loved him                                     
                       He was not alone                                  
                                                                         
                       I remember that moment                            
                       As if it were yesterday                           
                       But it is not                                     
                       My father's death                                 
                       That I remember                                   
                       It is my parent's love                            
                                                                         
                       I was twenty-seven then                           
                       I am thirty-eight now                             
                       And still                                         
                       Love escapes me                                   
                       And I wonder -                                    
                       When it's me                                      
                       Lying there                                       
                       When it's my turn                                 
                       To face the moment                                
                       When we are most                                  
                       Alone -                                           
                       Will there be anyone                              
                       To call                                           
                       And if I call                                     
                       Will there be anyone                              
                       To answer                                         
                                                                         
                Copyright (C) - 1990  R. A. Ciccolella                   
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